April Rain
by Silver Sailor Ganymede
Summary: Ryou laments his sister's death.


Disclaimer: I do not own Yu Gi Oh.

April Rain  
By Silver Sailor Ganymede

They all told me that it wasn't my fault: that what had happened hadn't happened because of me, that it had been an accident: but that was what people were telling me. _They _told me a rather different story, and _they_ were always right. _They _told me that it was my fault she had died, that if I had been there for her like I should have, she'd still be alive now.

Perhaps by now you are wondering whom it was that I failed so badly that it cost them their life? Perhaps you are wondering who _they _are. Well perhaps I can explain… perhaps, though I doubt you'll believe me on the latter of the two: no one ever did…

* * *

Whenever I think back to that day, the first thing I remember is the rain: the ethereal vail of April rain. It was beautiful in my eyes, but I was later to find that it was far more deadly than I ever would have imagined…

I can't remember exactly why, but I was late getting out of school that day. What I do remember is running through the rain, worried that I would be late collecting Amane. You see Amane was my younger sister. Was, not is: and that is my fault: is, not was; I still feel guilt about what happened: _they _make sure of that. My parents were never around, so I was pretty much in charge of caring for my sister. Most people would never have thought a nine-year-old boy would be able to care for his four-year-old sister, but I did. I had to: if not me then who would have? Of couse, looking back I know I should have let someone take the responsibility off of my shoulders, but I didn't, did I?

But I digress; this is not what you want to hear, is it? Now back to my tale…

I remember running through the rain, faster than I ever had before. I had the suspicion something was wrong: I just didn't know what. Well, any questions I had had abated as soon as I reached the preschool Amane attended. There was an ambulance outside, its siren's wailing mournfully in the rain. I turned, afraid, and saw what had happened.

A pool of red shone bright and ominous against the colourless world, and the body of a child was being carried away into the ambulance. Her white hair was matted with blood, her black eyes dull, unseeing… lifeless. Amane. My sister. Dead. Gone. My fault. Should have been there. Wasn't. She's gone now. Dead.

Someone spoke to me: "there's nothing to see here, son, run along."

I tried to explain that she was my sister, but I found I couldn't. The words got stuck in my throat as I tried to speak. My eyes clouded over with tears so I couldn't see. All I could here was the sirens wailing. Then nothing; the crowds had gone and I stood alone, though for how long I didn't know. The crowds had gone and the sirens couldn't be heard any longer. The rain had washed away her blood, the viel of rain, which still poured on, falling on my face and mixing with my tears. There was no one to see me cry, and even if there had been I doubted anyone would have cared. I stood there, alone and crying, nothing more than a shadow hidden by the April rain, the beautiful rain that was in truth not rain but the tears of the dead.

* * *

It wasn't long after that that _they _started to come to me. Their voices hissed and called to me, echoed through my head, venom, poison: they made me bitter at first, but I soon came to realise that they were speaking the truth: the truth that no one else would ever tell me. Mother, father, doctors, family, friends, everyone told me that Amane had been killed by a hit and run driver, though they never found the culprit. I knew they were wrong though; it was my stupidity that had killed her. If it hadn't been for me she'd still be here. _They _were the ones who told me that, and _they_ were always right, weren't they?

I still remember her funeral, of course I do, but it is not the funeral itself I wish to recount to you: what I wish to tell you is of something that happened after the funeral had ended. All others had departed from the graveyard, but I had not. I was just standing there, staring mindlessly at her gravestone: it was hard for me to believe that her body was hidden in that tiny white coffin and buried six feet deep.

"_But she is_," the voice whispered. _"She's gone and it's your fault. Don't deny it, you know it's true."_

I turned around, tears springing into my eyes yet again, and was stunned by what I saw. A boy around my own age, perhaps slightly older than me, was resting casually against one of the headstones, his black eyes narrowed with malice, a sneer on his face.

"Who are you," I asked, stunned by his sudden appearance.

"_I am you," _came the enigmatic reply and then he disappeared as suddenly as he had come.

I stood there in shock, looking round for him, but he wasn't there; perhaps I had been imagining things, perhaps _they _weren't real.

"_But I am real," _the voice hissed, and I realised that _they _were the same as the boy I had just seen. _"I am as real as you are, and I'm only telling you the truth. If you don't believe me, ask her."_

I turned around to face Amane's grave again and saw her there. Her hair and clothes caked with blood, her eyes hollow, lifeless and broken, blood flowing from them in a macabre parody of human tears.

"You could have saved me, Onii-san," she whispered. "You could have saved me…"

With that she too disappeared, and I was left alone once more, alone and surrounded by death, broken and crying in the April rain.


End file.
